At the Earl's Convenience by Maggi Andersen Read Free Book Online Page A

suite made with fresh sheets and a bed warmer, if you please, Mrs. Lark, and the fire lit,” Selina said. “Ask Cook to make beef tea.”
    “I’ll not drink any of that foul stuff,” Devereux muttered. “Bring me a brandy.”
    “Does your throat hurt?” she asked, ignoring his bad temper.
    “A little,” he said gruffly.
    “My mother had a good remedy for sore throats,” Selina said briskly. “Mrs. Lark, Cook is to steep horseradish in a gill of vinegar and add a gill of honey. I’ll have his lordship take a teaspoon every twenty minutes.”
    “Are you trying to poison me, madam?”
    “And for his lordship’s cough, Mrs. Lark,” Selina continued, “we shall need sliced lemon mixed with a half-pint of flaxseed and two ounces of honey, added to one quart of water. Cook must simmer the mixture for several hours and then strain it.”
    Mrs. Lark hurried from the room.
    Selina turned to find Devereux slumped in his chair watching her.
    “Good God, I’ll not take that,” he said. “You’ll have to tie me down.”
    “No brandy.”
    He widened his eyes. “You are refusing me?”
    “For the time being.”
    “What gave you such conviction, Selina?” he asked with a lift of his brows. “Was it your father? Were you his pet? I can imagine you as a child, ordering everyone about in your ebony plaits.”
    “I declare you are color-blind, my lord.”
    He grinned. “See? Resolute, right down to your toes.” His gaze roamed down her body, making her unsure what point he was making.
    “Shall I call the footman to help you to bed?”
    “That won’t be necessary, thank you,” he said with quiet dignity, climbing sluggishly to his feet. He stumbled and grasped her arm to gain his balance. “You may bring the decanter of brandy to my bedchamber. I know what best suits me.”
    “I admit I am yet to learn it,” she said. “I’ve had so little time.”
    “No need to rub my nose in it, Selina,” he said as they climbed the stairs. “You shouldn’t attack a fellow when he’s low.”
    “I apologize.”
    “Then you’ll bring me brandy?”
    “No.”
    “I’ll ring for the footman to bring it.”
    “It won’t do you any good, Devereux; I shall instruct them all to ignore you. It is for your own good you know.”
    “Brandy is good for ailments.”
    “Yes, but not this one.”
    She was aware at how desperately ill he must feel when he panted and subsided into a grim silence as they made their way slowly up the stairs.
    “Good thing there aren’t women in the army,” he muttered as they entered the blue bedchamber. The freshly distempered walls, new royal-blue, and gold silk drapes and bed curtains lent the room an elegant air. He held the bedpost and gazed around. “You have been busy.”
    Was that vulnerability in his eyes? He’d always seemed invincible. Some of his class was brought up with very little affection. Sent off to school when barely out of babyhood. She would not do that to her sons. They wouldn’t be taught to hide their emotions beneath bluster and bravado. His vulnerability had defused her anger and resentment as she’d taken charge.
    Selina folded back the bed cover, checked the sheets for damp and that the bed warmer was in place. Devereux toppled onto the bed with a groan and propped himself up on his elbows, his breathing labored.
    “As you have no manservant, I’ll send Frobisher to help you undress.”
    He caught her arm. “No. You do it, Selina.”

Chapter Eight

    Selina fought the pull of attraction as she unraveled Devereux’s cravat and helped him out of his coat then his waistcoat. She placed his watch and fobs on the bureau. Returning, she pulled his shirt over his head, tamping down a desire to run her hands over him. There was a sprinkling of dusky hair on the sculptured planes of his chest. Would it feel rough or soft beneath her fingers? His light olive skin had recently seen the sun in warmer climes. His belly was flat and ridged with muscle, and a line of